


Prurience

by Ezlebe



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Derogatory Language, Exhibitionism, F/F, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Femlux, Light Dom/sub, Public Sex, Rule 63, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-20 15:16:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17025072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ezlebe/pseuds/Ezlebe
Summary: “I don’t like that expression,” Hux says, lowering her voice until the hum of the engine almost swallows the sound. “Why are you being so tarty?”“My role at these functions is to eavesdrop into traitorous minds,” Ren says, ignoring the underlying question with an overly casual turn of her head. “Some of them seem to be getting immune to my usual method, so I’ve simply adjusted for it.”“Your usual method is fear,” Hux reminds, tempted to further clarify with a few choice details of an interrogation conducted barely six hours past, carried out with comparably little nudity. “I rather long for you to use your usual method.”





	Prurience

“I don’t remember Captain Twak extending this invitation to a _harlot_ ,” Hux sneers, gesturing forward over Ren’s exposed front. She’s fairly certain there is muscle seizing in her neck with the effort to keep her eyes somewhere respectable, the quick glance when Ren had boarded being enough for Hux to know she’d certainly outdone herself this time.

It’s common that Ren’s social ensembles could be a little distasteful, with bared thighs and broken seams at her sides to show off every angle of generous bosom, but not often were they so thoroughly _shameless_. The robe is a mockery of her normal wear - absent the curve-flattening armor and dour solemnity, then made into a joke out of some sort of sheer whispy fabric. The only thing even keeping it together looks to be a waist corset, as the secondary leather harness does little more than accentuate the _lack_ of support.

Ren seems to care little about the effect with her own glance downward, giving a shrug and a twisting smirk as she adjusts her breasts with both hands in a manner that seems for nothing more than attention. “Do you ever get tired of repeating yourself?”

“I would prefer not to have to,” Hux says, allowing herself a longer look just as Ren shifts back in her seat; the troopers up front will never know, and Ren is glancing at something on her data pad. “If only you dressed with dignity. At least you’ve got underwear this time.”

Ren abruptly glances up with a curious bite at her lip, cheeks hollowing with held back words.

“I don’t like that expression,” Hux says, lowering her voice until the hum of the engine almost swallows the sound. “Why are you being so tarty?”

“My role at these functions is to eavesdrop into traitorous minds,” Ren says, ignoring the underlying question with an overly casual turn of her head. “Some of them seem to be getting immune to my usual method, so I’ve simply adjusted for it.”

“Your usual method is _fear_ ,” Hux reminds, tempted to further clarify with a few choice details of an interrogation conducted barely six hours past, carried out with comparably little nudity. “I rather long for you to use your usual method.”

“They would know who I was,” Ren says, giving a careless lift of a shoulder. “Diversion is much easier.”

Hux rolls her eyes to the porthole, idly watching as the shuttle approaches to land within the _Dénouement;_ the sight does little to dull her temper. “Oh yes, thank you _so much_ for instead making my contemporaries believe I bring a whore to these things.”

“They don’t,” Ren says, her voice curiously firm for a few seconds before relaxing into a mere taunt. “Simply that you’re weak to the flesh and I’m taking advantage.”

“Capital,” Hux mutters, glancing forward again between blinks to catch Ren smoothing her elaborately braided hair with careful fingers. It is always odd to see it like this, down one shoulder in various twisting, loose patterns of style rather than in the single staid plait that is always pinned against the back of her head.

“A Centrist at the Bespin event last month wanted to pledge his daughter to you for loyalty,” Ren says, looking up to Hux with a flicker of dark lashes, hands dropping back to her lap with a soft hum and a sigh. “She’s admittedly quite beautiful in comparison.”

“Ah,” Hux intones, raising a single brow and uncertain which of these Senators might be trying to marry her off now, though this one is rare with the mind to choose a daughter. “Compared to who - me?”

Ren blinks back, golden-dusted, kohl-black eyes making her appear owlish. “To me.”

Hux feels a scoff build at the back of her throat. Ren effortlessly conquers every shallow mind in the room at these parties, and Hux doubts this daughter is a Zeltron from Iego. “I’m sure.”

The shuttle docks into the _Dénouement_ with a shake and a quiet clank of durasteel clamps, and Hux stands with practice at just the same time as Ren to face the exiting ramp. The troopers file in from the cockpit at the next instant, conducting checks and reaching for air locks with only the usual unease.

“Actually, I – ” Ren clears her throat, voice low as she leans into Hux’s side and away from the troopers pushing at releases. “I was hoping to start the game early. Tonight.”

Hux feels a flash of heat across the back of her neck, hopefully hidden by the shuttle’s dim rooflight. She doesn’t look to the side, refusing to risk a flush spreading up her ears if Ren is feeling especially brazen. “And?”

A datapad is precipitously shoved into her hand at the same moment the ramp lowers, prompting her to look down and consequently miss entirely the greetings from the Captain. She instead lifts the screen to stare in befuddlement, frowning at a colorful app on screen, purple and pink, but otherwise unremarkable aside from a bar at the top with the label _Ambient Sound_.

“General, ma’am,” Twak says from the bottom of the ramp, expression tight around the eyes when Hux looks up with a start. “Is everything alright?”

Hux ignores the question, lowering the data pad to her side and slipping it into a hidden pocket alongside her own. She slowly steps down the ramp until she’s next to Ren, reaching forward to take the Captain’s outstretched hand. “Good evening, Captain. I’m happy to see the _Dénouement_ back in shape after the recent attack.”

Twak nods shortly, leaning forward on his toes with a touch of overeager reverence. “Yes, thank you, ma’am. I appreciated your support with the additional repair technicians.”

“Anything for the Order,” Hux says, tipping her head and watching with narrowed eyes for the predicted wince crossing Twak’s face. It is no secret that he’s been angling to step into a coveted Admiral position, eager to dig his stubby fingers into her projects and destroy them with his idiocy just as he has with _this_ ship.

“General, Lady Syro,” Twak says, expression turning genial once more as he gestures over with a needless flourish toward the far end of the cargo bay, his attending lieutenants bowing their heads at the same moment. “Please, follow me to the ballroom.”

Hux rolls her eyes and catches Ren, who shares a smirk that disappears quickly behind the usual graciousness she affects for these events. A large palm presses momentarily at her side, just over the data pad, and Hux shakes her head, mouthing, “Later.”

The ballroom is full of milling guests and decorated with predictable black and red, banners for the First Order interspersed with the flowing insignias for the _Dénouement_. A subtle tune of live music can even be heard above the quiet roar of conversation, and it belies a certain stuffiness that will undoubtedly linger through into the dinner, politeness all that prevents anyone from retiring early to their assigned suites.

Hux blinks and glances sideways as a soft murmur of a sigh brings her out of her thoughts, narrowing her eyes as she watches Ren shift from one heeled foot to the other, then nearly bumping into a passing server. “What are you doing?” She hisses under her breath, reaching out and grabbing at Ren’s elbow to better play the attentive lover. “Do you have some sort of injury?”

“You’ve pressed something on the data pad,” Ren murmurs, her voice breathy, visibly biting at the inside of her lip to keep from messing her painstakingly applied lipstick.

Hux swallows back against a sudden dryness at her mouth. “ _What_?”

Ren only shrugs with a little, secretive smile, or at least Syro does, leaning in and giving an exaggerated peck on Hux’s cheek. She saunters off to the little gathering of her usual admirers, every step enhanced by a curious roll at her hips that draws more than a few side-eyed lechers.

“Syro, you look lovely as ever,” a toadying follower says, voice far above appropriate volume and easily overheard, reaching forward as if to grab at one of the wispy edges of Ren’s gown.

“Thank you,” Ren responds, her voice at an unnaturally higher, nasal pitch. She sidesteps the grasping hand with ease, evidently disguising it with a gesture at Hux. “The General gifted me the leather harness, and I just had to show it off.”

“Oh, you _are_ spoiled,” another says, paired with an ear-splitting laugh. “Artas never gets me anything.”

Hux swallows the impulse to scoff, turning to escape the drivel with a few steps away, taking a drink off passing waitstaff and reaching in her pocket for the data pad. She doesn’t know how Ren deals with those morons without gutting them, though the fact she’s been disallowed bringing her saber likely has some sway. Hux barely has to speak to them, yet constantly wants to gouge out their eyes and cut free their tongues.

The data pad comes back into focus when she sends a disparaging comment; the buzz at her own hip is startling, and she hastily retrieves it at the same moment a vaguely familiar politician walks past – an unpredicted boon. If she looks busy, no one will dare speak to her for fear of earning admonishment.

The screen lights up when Hux lifts it, surprising her with the realization it has the lock deactivated and opens immediately to the unfamiliar app screen. She stares at it for a moment longer before flicking her thumb across the screen in curiosity, lifting a brow as it takes her to another purple and pink page, but now eschewing a way to use music; the next is some kind of remote by the label, with a gently pulsating sphere to move up and down, along with a pair of options labeled _float_ and _loop_ ; the one after is what truly makes her pause – it’s an empty chat screen. The top has Hux’s title, the words _toy connected_ , and a few unsubtle options at the bottom, most disturbingly the one that is already highlighted: ‘ _vibe together_.’

She flicks back to the page labeled ambient sound, watching with dawning epiphany as the little indicator gently wavers with the music playing across the room. She slowly goes to the next remote-control page, hovering over the indicator and unsure how eager she is to test her new theory, but in a split second of decision looks up and across the room at the same moment she flicks across the screen, watching as Ren reacts in an almost immediate fashion, standing straighter and muscular thighs visibly pressing hard together.

Ren catches her eyes in a startled glance backward, sending a familiar shiver of Force invasive across Hux’s mind. It all seems to happen in only an instant, sultry look returning in a blink as she turns back to Syro’s cabal.

“Oh crumbs,” Hux murmurs to herself, turning her back on Ren and downing the rest of the wine in her glass with a single, mortified gulp.

It’s not to say that Ren and she haven’t engaged in a certain amount of… game playing over the past years, but this is simply far and away to a different degree. She is holding a – a _sex toy_ in her hand. In _public_. Her peers are literally bumping shoulders with her and politely demanding attention even as she hastily turns settings down and tries to recoup her scattered thoughts; she hopes her mind wasn’t too scandalized during Ren’s once over – she’s already had enough embarrassment.

“General!” A wheezing voice greets, startling her out of her thoughts with a yank. “I was hoping to ask you about the project on Taal.”

“Of course,” Hux says, shoving the datapad back in her pocket, lest these morons somehow pick up the ruse.

It usually takes hours of steady wine and exaggerated acting during dinner before either of them gives into baser temptation, but Hux has only barely finished a second glass when she grasps the resolve to extract herself from glib conversation about mining policy and march over to Ren. The game technically started right off the ramp, so the impulse is completely acceptable, and Hux has already been watching Ren fucking _rub_ her thighs together in an evident manner for far too long.  She doesn’t know how the fanclub hasn’t spotted it, unless they _have_ , and this is all some crazy sex game that Hux has been too ignorant to notice.

“Darling,” Hux says, affecting the slightly-too-patronizing tone she likes to use at these events, just to watch Ren glare through Syro’s sparkling eyes. “I need to speak to you.”

“Oh,” Ren says, blinking in an entirely faked manner of surprise. “Well?”

“Yes, _privately_ ,” Hux clarifies, glancing around pointedly to the unsubtle watchers, though careful not to look any of them in the eye.

The group begins tittering just a few steps out, and Hux is tempted to turn around and order the trooper guards at the door they pass to go out and throw them into open space. It would cause a minor conflict with a few top officers losing their partners to Hux’s whim, but honestly, they would likely be thankful in the end.

“What in the Four Hells do you think you’re doing?” Hux hisses the moment they’re sequestered in a darkened hall, bringing up the screen to show the app. She taps between a few of the different sections, pausing to double-check all options are darkened and sliders down. She doesn’t need any more distractions for Ren to use to get away from giving an _explanation_.

“Why don’t you find out?” Ren says, her voice colored with surprisingly little defensive posturing. She reaches out and takes Hux’s other hand, earnestly directing it downward to the space between her thighs.

Hux frowns and wrenches said hand back with a start, rolling her eyes at the pout it earns and pulling off the pair of sharp, claw-like rings; Ren’s affection for pain hardly extends so far, which is mortifyingly something they’ve discovered together.

She might never verbally admit that it is only at these parties that her hands end up feeling out the front of lace panties, but that doesn’t make her any less adept at quickly finding a particular _antenna_ that hardly belongs, slender and tucked up near a swollen clitoris. She takes a sharp breath and abruptly shoves aside thin, patterned fabric, feeling out across recently shaven skin to find Ren soaking and sensitive with arousal.

“My, my,” Hux murmurs, twisting her fingers a little and feeling wetness slick through her knuckles. She bites her lip and looks up, catching the haze in Ren’s dark eyes, and turns her fingers on impulse into that hard, hot little nub just to watch the shiver of pleasure travel up Ren’s entire body.

“General,” Ren whispers, her voice no doubt purposely breathless, wanton and tinged with some mockery of helpless edge.

Hux hums low in response and slides her fingers back toward Ren’s filled cunt. She pulls at the receiver with a jerk of her fingers, and is rewarded with an audible whimper and half step forward, supple breasts now pressed into Hux’s side.

“You are a naughty girl,” Hux says, idly tapping at the screen with her other hand, shoving the levels up mid-way for a few seconds and feeling the resulting vibration through heated flesh. “I should just _leave_ you like this.”

“Please,” Ren gasps, her hips lurching upward, trying to rub her clit at the heel of Hux’s hand. “ _Hux_.”

“Ah, ah,” Hux tuts, slowly dragging the tips of her fingers away from Ren’s swollen labia, teasing at the slippery folds. “We still have dinner, don’t we?”

“You’re – ” Ren makes a frustrated noise when Hux’s retreats from her panties completely, raising her own hands like she might bodily disagree, only to pause and almost hover with anticipation. “You’re the General.”

Hux concedes the point with a low hum. She almost wipes off on Ren’s imitation of a gown, only to instead lift her hand to her own mouth, licking her fingers clean with a few swipes of tongue and watching Ren’s eyes go somehow even darker. “Such a title comes with _responsibilities_ , my Lady.”

A few thousand excuses otherwise are at the back of her mind, but the results of none of them are quite so tempting as watching Ren squirm through barely-civil conversation and knowing she’s slowly soaking her seat. The game has always been an indulgence, a little reward of pleasure to break up the tedium of social duty, but this is… too enticing an experience to pass up.

“General,” Ren says, shamelessly simpering and shifting with a heavier tip into Hux’s shoulder, then reaching down squeezing at Hux’s ass through her gown.

Hux finishes resetting her rings before she slaps the groping hands away, but forgets to move even a centimeter. “You behave.”

Ren actually _whines_ at the back of her throat, face falling into something almost convincingly desolate. “Hux.”

“I do wonder if I can make you actually _come_ in the middle of all of these awful people,” Hux muses, reaching out and curling a clawed finger into that shameless o-ring sitting flat between near-exposed breasts, pulling Ren forward like a beast to whisper in her ear. “What do you think?”  

Ren doesn’t offer an audible answer, instead shoving her nose into the side of Hux’s head and heaving a raspy, tonal sigh. She _is_ getting petulant.

“More than once, perhaps,” Hux continues, lowering her voice, rubbing her fingers now around a pert nipple trapped by thin fabric. She listens to the quiet, quaking breath in her ear, then indulges herself in an urge she’s had since Ren walked on the shuttle in little more than lingerie: palming whole-handedly at the heavy, rounded shape of a breast. “You’ll be sore and aching by the end, thighs wet and dripping your own arousal, obvious to every lecherous eye that looks at your wide, bared ass as you walk beside me to my suite; I’ll make you come again with my fingers, my tongue, until you’re _weeping_ , so loud that every one here _knows_ you’re my whore.”

Ren gives another whining moan, the noise stuttering at the back of her throat. “ _Hux_.”

“Now come along,” Hux says, breathing slowly and reluctantly leaning away from Ren. She idly straightens Ren’s robe, carefully snapping the elastic of her panties in place, once more hiding the toy seamlessly under lace and satin. “You’re with me tonight, understood? No fan club.”

“Wretches,” Ren mutters, a snarl marring her expression for few moments, before relaxing as she hastily checks her face in a spotless viewport. She can be so vain during these parties, even when they’re alone, becoming some amalgam of Syro and Ren.

Hux tuts under her breath but allows the vanity, trailing her hands up to the harness with a low hum; she gives into an impulse to tug again on the O-ring. “The _General_ should’ve bought a lead to go with this harness.”

Ren tips her head as she turns to align herself at Hux’s side, slipping a hand into the crook of an elbow and leaning close to give a hum that sends a vibrato directly in Hux’s ear. “She knows I would prefer that for my collar.”

Hux suffers a flash of heat across her palms, a gentle throb in her own cunt, and realizes this is going to be a very trying night. She refuses to withdraw her earlier assertion, despite it; she has more than enough control over her baser self.

“No dancing, either,” she says, admittedly feeling some actual guilt on the matter; it is the one thing she knows Ren genuinely enjoys doing here. It had been obvious early in their arrangement that Princess Ben must have been classically trained at some point, making Lady Syro now a partner in high demand, and likely a reason Kylo Ren was assigned to accompany Hux – outside of being able to rend a traitorous mind to pieces.

“You’re not unable,” Ren says, taking a particularly swaying step that is likely meant to mimic a waltz.

“Like hell,” Hux scoffs, feeling her neck flush with a decidedly miserable alternative to arousal. She can still remember the singular time they’ve attempted, when Ren was just a stranger with an amazing body and an awful personality – not _too_ different from now. “I haven’t forgotten how you laughed at me.”

“Of course,” Ren says, ostensibly guiltless as she tips her head sideways again into Hux’s shoulder. “You were awful at it.”

Hux rolls her eyes and bites sharply at the inside of her lip, refusing to defend the untenable. She _is_ tempted to pull away, but would rather not give Ren the satisfaction of her insult being successful.

Ren gives a thin huff under her breath, practically a sigh, as they slowly re-enter the ballroom. Her posture changes immediately in the public space as well, where she was before coy, now practically fusing into Hux’s side like a parasite. “You can organize a millions strong workforce and battalion strategy, design and engineer a starship,” she says, her mouth now pressed to close Hux’s ear in a manner that likely looks sultry from the outside. “Yet you can’t _dance_. It amuses me.”

“My childhood had practical lessons,” Hux mutters, letting her hand settle on the base of Ren’s spine, just along the corset above the propped swell of her ass. “Not bloody useless footwork.”

Ren hums something low and unintelligible, her thumb softly stroking along Hux’s wrist. She turns inward, practically batting her eyelashes. “I know it isn’t because you’re unattuned to your body.”

“My Lady,” Hux sighs, glancing sideways at the same moment she reaches to her pocket, nodding to a passing Lieutenant while lowering her voice into a warning. “Tread careful.”

“Hux, just one – ” a choked gasp breaks up Ren’s whinging, her hand squeezing hard around Hux’s forearm. Her entire body turns practically stone in the following moments, grip likely leaving considerable bruises; that will need to be rectified.

Ren turns her head, expression tucked in the space between them with her trembling subtle, unless specifically looked for, in the turn of her painted lips and flutter of dark lashes. It takes seconds for her to relax after the slider is dropped, fingers dropping to curl weakly around Hux’s wrist.

“If you behave, perhaps I might indulge you,” Hux says, her will breaking far too easy, though she’s certain Ren won’t see it that way, which is part of the reason she allows it to crumble. She turns her hand into Ren’s, squeezing at her palm, “Just tonight.”

“Thank you,” Ren murmurs, the statement little more than an undeniably eager breath. 

Hux looks up when the passing lieutenant returns, now with a drink in hand and an intent expression. She has difficulty grasping his name for a moment, until he opens his mouth and she recognizes the pair of uneven silver teeth.

“Good Evening, General,” Artas says, bowing slightly, seemingly apathetic to the obvious fact he’s interrupting a private conversation. He even seems entitled about it, even sparing a dismissive look to Ren. “I was hoping to speak to you about a recent battalion movement – on Lothal?”

“Ah,” Hux intones, feeling her mouth twitch downward, but she can only make so many excuses when her only purpose here is to bloody _mingle_. “I do have some time.”

Artas is silent for a beat, then glances again to Ren with a sharper clear of his throat. “It’s rather sensitive.”

“I assumed,” Hux says flatly, settling back onto a heel as she recognizes the issue – he doesn’t want to speak in front of Ren. It is laughable enough she tightens her grip on Ren’s corset, drawing her closer and watching him frown about it.

“I, ah – Lady Syro, I think Sera is looking for you,” Artas says, his tone abruptly going out and out patronizing, paired with an entirely false smile across his face – as if he’s speaking to a damned _child_.

Hux has half a mind to now simply dismiss him out of hand. He might not know who he’s truly speaking to, but he should hardly be so patronizing to _anyone_ who is his superior’s partner.

“Is she?” Ren says, her voice dull and practically disinterested, as if unaware of the disrespect, though there is some tightening at the corners of her eyes. She seems to entertain an outward glance to the center of the room, then hums lowly, replacing her head on Hux’s shoulder. “That’s nice.”

“Lieutenant Artas,” Hux says, clearing her throat and forcing Artas’ focus back to her, managing to rein her own tongue from admonishing his attitude. “You were saying?”

Artas stares in askance, his mouth dropping open slightly while his eyes flick to Ren, then back to Hux. He looks satisfyingly offended, his next move to take a step away with a sharp breath. “I will save it for a more private setting, General. Enjoy your night.”

“You, as well,” Hux says, narrowing her eyes to glare at his back.

“He doesn’t know what you see in me,” Ren says, her voice little more than a mumble of discontent. "None of them do."

Hux huffs slightly, reaching down for her data pad to add a reminder; she’ll message him the next duty cycle about it, perhaps invite Ren to the ensuing meeting just for her own amusement. “Aside for the obvious, I presume.”

Ren exhales a sulking mutter, heavy at Hux’s side when she next leans in to speak against her ear. “They all think me a dullard.”

“Such a tragedy that’s what you want them to think,” Hux says, habit prompting her to respond to one or two other insipid messages. She returns the data pad to her pocket, dragging the tips of her fingers along the edges of Ren’s for a thoughtful moment, only to let it sit. “You piloted yourself into that asteroid field.”

“They’re all just waiting for me to disappear,” Ren says, simultaneously vindictive and sullen, “Replaced by someone more _appropriate_ for you.”

“Act as yourself, then,” Hux says, glancing sidelong to catch Ren’s eyes, only to instead find them downcast and perfectly complementary to a glower. She hesitates for a moment before reaching out, drawing a pair of fingers down along the seam of the corset, trying to force her voice to a lighter tone. “You can even keep your whorish clothes, just stop playing the coy simpleton.”

Ren is still for a few seconds, then drops her head further, completely masking her expression in Hux’s shoulder. It’s a rejection, to be sure, and such an awkward one that it’s clear the chagrined Ren couldn’t keep said important act of Syro up while contemplating the suggestion.

Hux presses her lips together, biting down for a spare second that threatens to bring iron to her tongue. She really must work better to stamp out this foolishness, born of an arrogance that aches just behind her ribs, always trying to convince her this is more than a mission; an arrogance that has her dread to join the leagues of oglers and lechers, much as she already is anywhere else but these farcical parties.

She forces herself to look away from Ren before she can get more mawkish, eyes consequently catching on the twirling pairs halfway across the ballroom. She watches them a moment, then tightens the arm gone lax around Ren’s waist. “Didn’t you want to dance?”

Ren lifts her head with a start, peeking through her fringe and mood ostensibly recovering in an instant. “Yes _?_ ”

“Well, if you would,” Hux says, palming Ren’s ass just because she can, because she wants to and is _allowed_ , then gesturing to the bar with a nod of her chin. “Go get me a drink.”

Ren doesn’t so much as move a step. “What?”

“My Lady,” Hux says, relaxing her hold and shifting away, balancing on the narrow point of her heel. She makes a show of reaching for her pocket. “Did we not agree for you to behave?”

Ren raises her brows, then drops them, her eyes darting down to Hux’s hands with a visible bite at her lower lip.

“Go on,” Hux says, taking another step backward and pulling out the data pad. She hums at it after the screen is up, flicking between her options, then pauses with a thumb against a slider. “I’ll set it back on _ambient_ – do try not to get caught up in conversation.”

Ren drops her head with a particular affected deference, ruined only some by the smirk at the corner of her mouth. “Yes, General.”

Hux reins her own expression, forcing it flat while stowing away the data pad. She’ll only let it go on a bit; if wouldn’t do to really allow Ren to become a mess before they can even sit down.

“Lady Syro is looking rather beautiful tonight, ma’am,” a voice comes, boldly interrupting her thoughts, and low and rather sly. “I would take her to dance, if you are amenable.”

Hux stares after Ren for a few moments more, watching her walk with a steady sway of robes, and feels a good half of her merriment fade, replaced by a tighter feeling that she’d prefer not to examine closer. “She is, and always,” she says, glancing to the intruder and letting loose a short sneer at their impertinence, bearing a rank so low it’s a shock they dared speak to her at all, let alone admit to eavesdropping. “But I am not amenable. Understood?”

The upstart ensign thankfully seems to realize their error quickly, glancing down in clear deferment and giving a shaky nod. “Yes, ma’am.”

“The Lady chooses her own partners,” Hux continues, just in the case that this fool is a gossip, as well; she’d like some truth in her voice if Ren gets shirty about Hux choosing her dance partners. “But I wouldn’t try for it now, disrespecting her like this.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the ensign agrees meekly, shuffling backward to nearly stumble over a passing droid. The misstep seems to startle them into outright urgency, and they rush off sideways with evident goal of anywhere else.

“Who was that?” Ren asks with sudden appearance over a shoulder, offering Hux’s drink. Her face is just slightly flushed for her trouble, lips bitten to the point of sparsely mussed lipstick.

“Some moron,” Hux mutters into the tumbler, using her other hand to blindly deselect the options on the data pad, then watching Ren relax with a visible shudder. The liquor tragically proves rather watered down at the first sip, Ren’s definite meddling, but something just in the mild burn on the way down soothes a nettle in her patience. “If only you could dress with more bloody class.”

“You like it,” Ren disagrees, a dry amusement in her tone. Her expression has curled up just so, skirting dangerously close to mocking as she leans in close to Hux’s face. “The way people look – the privilege you have to tell them off.”

Hux scoffs under her breath and waves her off, only to nearly bite her tongue when her hand is grabbed between Ren’s overlarge palms.

“I enjoy it as well,” Ren says, pressing the knuckles of Hux’s hand to her lips, kissing delicately, then stroking up the line of her own cheek. Her skin is soft and warm, and grip so loose she might not be holding on at all.

Hux tilts her head silently, allowing the manhandling, and hopes the idle ache at the middle of her chest doesn’t rise across her face.

“And the way you watch,” Ren continues, a perceptible drop in her tone, peeking up sideways through her lashes, eyes dark and boundless, and fixed steady on Hux. “Like you’re helpless to every slip of my thigh or bounce of my tits.”

“My Lady,” Hux scolds, sharpening her voice, slightly disappointed but entirely unsurprised, “Don’t be vulgar.”

“As you wish, General,” Ren says, painted lips rolling together into a mocking smirk. “But you promised me a dance.”

Hux hums low, then takes another, longer sip of her drink. “I believe I said you might _earn_ one.”

Ren breaks for just an instant, angry and sneering, looking away with badly masked huff.

“Which you may in a few seconds,” Hux continues slowly, pointedly turning her wrist to allow the ice to clink into the side of the tumbler. “If only you could wait for me to _finish_.”

“Oh,” Ren murmurs, looking back and actually seeming abashed, reaching up to tug sharp on her plaited hair. She is quiet for a few seconds, head tilted toward the dance floor, then gives an impatient sigh. “Hurry up.”

Hux rolls her eyes, tucking back the rest of the bitter liquor in one go and hoping it softens the humiliation. She’s certain there is still gossip running around from years ago, perhaps even footage, of her lack of skill in pointless social ritual.

Ren practically yanks once the tumbler is set to a passing tray, tugging at Hux's elbow to lead them winding through mingling groups. She seems to recognize the song when they near the center, pausing at the edge and practically on her toes, all the while humming the notes quietly under her breath.

Hux humors the hesitation for a few seconds, but finds herself quickly impatient. “What are you doing?”

“Waiting,” Ren says, glancing over with a short flicker of her lashes, looking oddly unbothered by Hux’s mocking tone. “It’s about to end.”

Hux glances to the musicians, watching the director's hands slow, and hums shortly when the noise does go gradually quiet. She has a passing thought to activate the vibe again, but resigns to simply follow when Ren steps forward; luckily, the stares are fewer than she’d worried, pairs or more caught up in each other rather than concerned with their neighbors. She allows herself to be positioned like some puppet, peeking subtly to the others, and summarily finds herself trying to banish a minor panic when it becomes clear Ren expects her to _lead_.

“You simply need to count and copy,” Ren says, spine straightening and taking up Hux’s hand, having already placed the other high on her ribs. She seems to settle into a poised figure, head tilted and likely waiting for the first note. “It’s like a kata.”

“A kata is done alone,” Hux reminds, then jerks when everyone starts to move around her, reflexively pressed to catch up. It is somehow already worse than the last disaster, less like she’s inexperienced and more like she’s an active disappointment; the feeling curdles deep in her gut – she’s had more than enough time to correct this lack.

“Not always,” Ren says, one of her hands tightening at Hux’s shoulder, thumb sliding heavy and somehow calming against her collarbone. She gestures some with her chin, wordlessly prompting Hux to glance to another dancer, and smiles slightly at the corner of her eyes when they manage an unsteady spin, then dip. “And this dance is very slow. Repetitive.”

Hux grudgingly nods, admittedly feeling rather better when the others actually are proceeding to do the same pattern, and even finds it’s easier to fall into the beat. She might even agree to classify it a kata – she can certainly see Ren learning an art to kill that moves in such ways, though more with the Force than a respectable weapon. “Do you do this one often?”

“I try not to,” Ren says, with a twist of her hips, gesturing for Hux to draw them in another turn with has them follow the others; she’s suddenly closer, mouth just near Hux’s ear. “It is a dance that benefits from a closeness that I lack with most here.”

Hux manages to lead the next few steps without even peeking at their neighbors, mostly pride, and some lust, driving her to perform. She hooks her thumb into the back of the harness in the next spin, listening to Ren’s startled grunt, and pulls her in close on a whim.

Ren takes a sharp breath, eyes going wide and lips parting in a most distracting manner.

Hux stares back a moment, finding herself beating back an abrupt surge of anxiety; her voice sounds weak when she finally manages to speak. “Most?”

“All but one,” Ren says, her eyes suddenly devoid of any playful coyness, simply intent and dark. Her next move is a mild shock, even as it is in line with the dance, though the prior turns hadn’t involved her pressed this close, their legs practically entwined and her mouth only centimeters away.

“Good,” Hux manages, dropping back another sweeping step only to realize the music is fading again, forcing her to acknowledge where she is in such an intimate position. She loosens her grip on the harness, tucking away a thought toward the curious duplicates of buckles, and drops her hand back to Ren’s waist.

Ren exhales slowly, her breath a soft, tempting puff against Hux’s lips. “Thank you. For the dance.”

Hux feels at a precipice, shifting some on her heel, and wondering how far will be too far. She’s still sore at Ren dismissing the suggestion to come clean, and this dance has only made that worse – a kiss now would certainly deepen that hollowness. She shifts back slightly, grudgingly thankful that even if Ren would rather not be… be publicly close to her, at least she’s never acted to deceive her, not _really_ , not unless she’s also fabricated years of frustrating personality during their duties.

“Come,” Hux mutters, drawing her other hand down to Ren’s inner arm to squeeze at her wrist. She still feels winded, lungs tight and keeping her breath short. “Dinner will be starting.”

Ren responds with a pitchy hum, resistant for a beat, then following closer than she usual might and catching Hux’s hand in hers rather than allowing her to pull away. She narrows her eyes sharply when Hux looks back, then tips her head, stalking along beside to the dining hall.

The events are usually staged around acquired assets, and this one is no different, table centerpieces displaying scenes of various victories. She finds her name at the table occupied by a familiar Centrist Senator, known for mumbling and being a proper puppet, and raises a brow when Ren moves to take the seat just next to them. She genuinely wonders if they’ll recognize Ren, as either a previous torturer _or_ the Jedi Princess, though the latter has yet to happen in any case, much to Hux’s disappointment in her peers.

“What is it?” Ren asks, settling into her seat with an unladylike splay of her legs, leaning closer to Hux with a low hum. She thrums her fingers impatiently on the table, “Meat, at least? I disliked the last one – that planet _deserved_ to be razed.”

“I haven’t the slightest,” Hux says, reaching for her inner pocket, then glancing down through the corner of her eye while she sets Ren’s data pad down and watching the display light up. She flicks to another screen, dragging her thumb upward sharply over the circle icon, moving it in a short, even pattern. “Though I can’t see that it matters.”

“Oh, you – ” Ren takes a shaky breath, one hand laying unsteady next to her complementary tryse juice; her fingers tremble with the sparest tremors. “I see… _Finally_.”

“Will it be too much,” Hux muses, ignoring the needling comment and glancing in surprise to an approaching serving droid. The first course is being brought around already, small plates of red fruit bearing the message that the dance had been just long enough for her to avoiding the usual disinteresting pre-meal conversation, leaving her free to mutter all she wants at Ren. “Are you going to embarrass me, my Lady?”

“No, General,” Ren says, lashes fluttering and eyes dropping to the table. She has a smile toying at her lips, and the fact she tries to hide it is what makes it real.

Hux reaches out on a whim, squeezing Ren’s knee under the table in the following minutes of poking uninterestedly at the appetizer. She isn’t generally tactile, not idly, but she doubts it will be taken as odd by the other guests – they already thinks Syro is a blindspot, which isn’t strictly untrue. She is also surprised, realizing it now, no one has attempted to use that against her, though Ren may be fielding those directions of thought.

The next course is featuring a variety of portions of  _presumed_  meat from the recently acquired planet, artfully sliced and lain upon a leafy bed, paired with a few lengths of vegetable. She looks back to Ren, subtle in her twitches and lip biting, but certainly not eating, and feels somewhat sorry for ruining a meal that Ren would’ve enjoyed more than air-baked gourd. She makes an idle note to have a couple leftover plates be sent to the Finalizer, and shifts her hand far higher than the knee she's been palming, feeling out the trembling of thick muscle; the robes are barely enough to veneer Ren’s skin, let alone keep the heat of her out from under Hux’s hand, which makes it a tempting prospect to dig fingers down into the flesh.

Ren looks up in the next moment, her eyes glinting gold from under her lashes with practically a dare writ within them.

Hux exhales slow as she slides her hand further around along inside of Ren’s thigh, ignoring the heady urge to actually look as her fingers press lightly along the surface of Ren’s damp panties, rubbing at the twitchy nub of a clit. She can’t believe she’s doing this less than a meter from a senator, ten from the greater amount of guests even in attendance. She should have more control than this, and shifts her own legs to cross them under the table, only to feel the telltale slick of her own arousal about to ruin lingerie.

Ren is such a strain on her dignity.

“Hu – ” Ren stutters, only to be interrupted by her own short breath. She reaches out, hand hovering over a fork, then suddenly taking up the utensil in a curious flex. “ _General_.”

“What was that?” Hux says, glancing up to find Ren’s eyes directed down on the data screen, teeth visible while biting down hard on a swollen lower lip. Hux draws her finger up another centimeter, keeping her gaze on Ren’s tremulous expression. “Did you want a bit more?”

Ren is quiet and still for seconds, then abruptly gives a muted squeak, badly hidden by steak she’s manages to press ineffectively to sealed lips. Her hand drops a beat later, metal clanking against the plate and meat falling completely free to rest back at its place among the stems.

“Is the steak not to your liking?” Hux asks, keeping her voice level, though unable to do much about the strained quality. She slides the bars down flat and reaches for her wine glass, taking an affected sip to hide her smirk – she is almost certain Ren just came, or very close to it, which gives her an entirely unhealthy sense of accomplishment. It cannot be natural to feel more victorious about this than a successful battle maneuver.

Ren glances sidelong in silent answer, lips curling tight together into a white line. She seems to be adept at keeping her own usual lewd noises restrained, if at the cost of conversation.

Tragic, all round.

Hux keeps the other hand in the warm crux of Ren’s legs, tracing soft circles around a familiar scar until the pulse beneath her fingers slows to something manageable.

“It’s fine,” Ren mutters, her voice hoarse around the _very_ belated reply. She shakily spears the meat a second time, shoving it into her mouth with surprising gusto, though she visibly regrets it a moment later going by the grimace. She chews for a few seconds, then drops her fork again, turning an absolutely wretched look to Hux.

“Alright,” Hux says, crossing her silverware over her own unfinished plate. She leans in and squeezes at Ren’s thigh a final time, then trails the hand up to her arm with a slight tug. “Come along.”

Ren nods slowly, hesitating only a beat before rising from the table with a near-silent whine. She trembles slightly, then a perceptible adjustment occurs, her spine straightening as she takes her first step to Hux’s side.

“General?” The senator exclaims while Hux and Ren go around their chair, white eyes darting between them, then lingering hard on Ren. The others at their table have noticeably looked away, more decorum and apathy for their part. “Is everything alright?”

Hux reaches out to pretend at straightening Ren’s hair, signaling with a tap of a thumb at her temple that she may be invasive for a few moments while Hux talks them out of the ballroom. “Apologies, Senater B’sara,” she says, gesturing with her other hand in a short bow at the waist. “The Lady is feeling a bit poorly. I’m going to have to cut our night short.”

“She does look flushed,” B’sara says, already flat mouth pinching even further. They look back to Hux with a tight nod, a strangely reluctant gleam in their eyes. “I hope it passes. Quickly.”

 _‘Think you’ve poisoned me,’_ Ren explains, and somehow her inner voice comes off breathless. _‘Your reputation proceeds you.’_

Hux rolls her eyes when she turns around, tightening her hand on Ren’s wrist while they walk. She ignores the sidelong looks from other tables, more concerned with swallowing the discontent at the accusation. She hardly understands the feeling, as she’s definitely thought about it, yet she can hardly keep herself from turning around and shouting at the morons.

 _‘You’re offended,’_ Ren muses, doing a wondrous job at stating the obvious. She steps in a likely deliberate manner into Hux’s side, rubbing up against her with a hum pitching low in her throat. _‘I know you like poison.’_

 _‘It would simply be very clumsy,’_ Hux responds, _‘To kill you so close.’_

_‘I doubt they expect any more from you.’_

Hux rolls her eyes down the hall, then reaches around for her pocket. She was going to be considerate, wait for privacy, but it never really pays to with Ren. She slows her pace a bit while looking down, and –

“Oh,” Ren gasps aloud, the muscle in her arm tightening under Hux’s palm.

“Too soon?” Hux asks primly, dropping the level to about a quarter, then back up to three quarters; evidently, she can _set_ a pattern rather than just toying with it herself, which is… less fun. She does it, nonetheless.

Ren glances over sharply, her pride practically visible in the blown pupils of her eyes. She takes a step forward, quaking slightly on the thin heel, then another, leading now as they continue down the hall. She doesn’t look at Hux when they reach the lift, head mostly turned away, but her lips are blanched from the force of her biting them.

“You haven’t answered,” Hux says, taking advantage of the relative privacy to speak directly in Ren’s ear, turning and using her free hand to slip around Ren’s leather-bound waist. She drops her hand lower, palming slow over Ren’s thinly veiled ass. “Are you feeling delicate, my Lady? I can only imagine how you must be _throbbing_.”

Ren exhales a shaky breath, eyes closing, and the line of her jaw shifts when she grits her teeth. “I’m fine.”

Hux hums low in response, tapping the claws of her rings against the screen. She glances down just as the lift opens, breaking the pattern to set the slider up a few measures more, this time a steady frequency.

Ren stops her march halfway to the next lift, inhaling unevenly, then drops unexpectedly into a crouch, breaking away from Hux’s loose grip and a badly muting a shout by biting the heel of one hand. She rocks slightly in a decidedly lascivious manner, until she wraps the other arm around her legs, forcing them together and herself to stop.

“Well,” Hux says, staring down at Ren trembling almost on the floor. She drops the bars on the screen all the way down, then hovers a moment more before closing the application completely – she’s rather done playing in public, unable to touch.  

“Mean,” Ren rasps shortly, reaching out to briefly flatten both hands across the floor, then moving to curl them over her head.

“You said it was fine,” Hux says, finding herself covering her face with the data pad to hide the twitch she feels across her mouth.

“Shut up,” Ren says, voice muffled, then peeking slightly up through her arms with a certain betraying delight in her eyes. “That – that – I almost _fell_ _down_.”

“You did a bit,” Hux says, reaching down and stroking at Ren’s bowed head, trying not to let a sudden swell of satisfaction be heard in her voice. “Can you stand now?”

“In a moment, I,” Ren pauses, then drops her chin hard to her chest, “I feel liquid.”

Hux huffs before she can quiet herself, reaching down politely when Ren does move to help her stand. She’s not sure how Ren has crouched so long in those boots in the first place. “Ah.”

“Are you going to turn it on again?”

“No, I’m – ” Hux pauses at the sight of a frown settling across Ren’s face, feeling her jaw drop. “We’re going to our room, stop looking like that.”

“Like what?” Ren says, her expression deepening into a sullen pout.

“Insatiable,” Hux snaps, feeling her face flushing and trying not to think hard about it. She won’t deny Ren is generally needy, but this is… This is just _greed_. She’s already come twice and Hux hasn’t even had one.

The hall to the room is a welcoming sight, enough that Hux knows she starts stepping a bit quicker when it gets in view than strictly dignified, but Ren hardly has the right to judge. She unlocks it with her data pad then drops both to the ease shelf, listening to Ren step in behind her, then sighing at the the comforting sound of the door sweeping and sealing shut.

“I think it’d be prudent to clean up a bit,” she says, ignoring Ren’s muttered disagreement and moving toward the refresher. It’s thankfully stocked with a decadent amount of towels and complimentary toiletries, and she plucks one washcloth of the off the rack and sets it onto the counter. She startles slightly when she turns to find Ren has followed her in _silently_ , then glances down down to see Ren’s was predictably quick to remove her boots.

Hux reaches out, running her hands across the edge of the leather corset. She’s fairly certain Ren has worn this before, and an experimental pull at the visible seam reveals it to be the one with the hook-and-eyes, just like her gloves. “There’s not much more to bare, is there?”

Ren hums flatly, kicking out a stocking’d leg with a particularly meaningful flair.

“Disrobe yourself, then,” Hux says, briefly indulging herself by undoing the first eyelet with a squeeze of her hands. She steps back with an idle trace up the strap of the harness, around and along the swell of a breast. “Except this.”

“The toy?”  

Hux drops her eyes for a moment, contemplating at Ren’s navel, then glances back up with a short shake of her head. “Leave that,” she says, turning to the sink and pulling off her rings, then reaching for the taps. “I may not be done.”

Ren comes drifting back in only a minute or so later and naked enough – her wispy fabrics likely draped haphazardly over a shelf. She bows her head some when Hux catches her eyes, and the way she bites at her lips seems only slightly for effect.

Hux turns on a heel to better face Ren, taking her in completely with a slow look from plaited hair to pointlessly varnished toes, then steps from the sink with a considering hum. She reaches out to rub lightly at the red marks just under Ren’s ribs, glancing up with a frown. “Has it been pinching all night?”

Ren barely shrugs, head dropping further to seemingly watch Hux’s hand travel across her stomach. “It’s not meant to be comfortable.”

Hux tuts dubiously, then takes up the washcloth, wetting it briefly in the sink. “Spread you legs, just a bit.”

Ren is silent while Hux gently drags the cloth over her firm inner thighs, then take a sharper breath when Hux wipes heavy over her sensitive, slick labia, squirming slightly into the movement. Her voice is quiet when she speaks, eyes on the towel as it’s dropped on the counter, barely audible above the shifting of the cloth. “Are we finished?”

“Of course not,” Hux says, moving in closer with a squeeze at Ren’s side. She slides her fingers back over Ren’s mound and spreads her slow, whispering soft into her ear with lips pressed just to her cheek. “Only with this.”

Ren gasps slightly as the toy is drawn from her, twitching forward and both hands lifting to almost make contact with Hux’s waist. She tips her head sideways with some purpose, temple touching against Hux’s in a significant tap.

“I’m bit surprised you’ve not crushed it,” Hux says, leaning back and reaching for the washcloth to wipe the device off, then peering at it; it’s oblong and wide at one end for the vibrator, innocuous but clearly powerful. “Such a tiny thing to bring you to your knees.”

“At your direction,” Ren adds, voice soft and insinuating, shifting again with particular roll of her hips. The effort of the washcloth will be undone soon enough, though that had been rather the expectation.

“Yes,” Hux says, placing the device on the counter, then turning and pointing on the ground at her feet. “Down.”

Ren lifts her chin for a defiant beat, then drops, folding her feet underneath herself with ease.

Hux sweeps her fingers across the soft skin of a shoulder, shifting to stand in front of Ren and reaching for her hair. She tugs at the subtle black band at the end, then pulls on the first of the pins that she knows bind most of it together into that mass of organized chaos. “How many?”

“Ten?” Ren says, rolling her head and peeking upward at Hux through her lashes.

Hux raises a dubious brow, then proceeds onward, sliding her fingers carefully along Ren’s crown. She finds pairs here and there, tugging them out until she’s reached ten, then scowls at Ren’s intact hair. She catches Ren’s eyes, then flicks lightly at the center of her forehead. “I’ve asked you to keep count.”

“I know,” Ren says absently, turning her head into Hux’s thigh with a deep inhale. She lingers there a beat, then rubs her cheek up against the fabric. “I can smell your arousal – it’s sweet.”

“I’ve also asked you not to say things like that,” Hux mutters, dropping the pins she’s found to the counter, then finds one on the off side, then more under the bottom – that’s thirteen, and the hair is _mostly_ loose. She runs her fingers down the front, freeing the trio of even plaits into a mess of curls, and then across the larger fishtail pattern binding the back, fingers finally snagging at the upper end near Ren’s scalp. She wags the pair she found in front of Ren’s eyes. “ _Fifteen_.”

Ren just curls her lips together, peeking up again and ostensibly trying to look innocent.

Hux narrows her eyes in turn, glaring a beat, then reaches with one hand for another towel and a bottle of the standard cleanser. A small part of her enjoys wiping off the makeup most, erasing dull powder meant to soften lines and gold that brightens cheeks to find Ren. She usually goes bare-faced, but Hux once saw her in her own taste, and purely by accident, when the both of them were called from their rooms to a sudden meeting with Snoke. She had been severe, eyes swathed and near hidden by the kohl rather than only a tasteful wing; her lips with the same black but without the refined gold accent.

Hux hadn’t asked who Ren was going to meet that night, but she still wonders despite the time.

“No one,” Ren mutters, eyes still closed and voice in odd cadence. “It was… for myself.”

“Still in my head, are you,” Hux says, feeling her mouth settle into a flat line.

“In a way,” Ren says, exhaling slow, head falling sideways against her shoulder when Hux releases her chin. She peeks up soft under her lashes, mouth twitching, “I’m just. Not in my own.”

Hux rolls her eyes and prompts Ren to stand with a short pressure under her jaw, then turns with a gesture for her to follow to step out into the room, stopping just near the foot of the bed. She tuts slightly, watching Ren follow slow for no reason other than her own languor. “Now,” she says, glancing across the thick strips of leather. She reaches out and slips the slack to unbuckle one of the extraneous straps over Ren’s shoulder. “I can rearrange this a bit, can’t I?”

Ren chews on her lip, gaze following when Hux moves behind her, a dark, half-lidded look in her eyes. She slowly lifts her arms when directed, folding them neatly so her elbows can be bound tight near her waist. “Apparently?”

Hux huffs through her nose, rearranging the other strap over and tightening until both Ren’s arms are held in by the harness. She allows herself a moment to slide her fingers over the valleys of strained biceps, down across her forearms. “Is this not what you got it for?”

“Looked nice,” Ren mutters, shoulders flexing backward with a ripple of muscle from her nape to the dimples of her ass. “Didn’t really… think about much else.”

“Ah, well,” Hux says, stepping back to eye the buckles for pinched skin, but it looks to be a perfect fit. It may have been bought for aesthetic value alone, but all’s the better for practical clothing – if it could be called that. She walks around to Ren’s front, finding the straps there holding flat, as well. “Anything going numb?”

Ren abruptly rocks up on her toes, shifting in all directions and very clearly testing the flexibility, but her upright posture directs all attention to her profane bosom. “No.”

Hux allows herself a moment to stare, then blinks away before she can be completely hypnotized, lifting her hand to trace down Ren’s chin with a pair of fingers. “Good.”

“Good,” Ren repeats, dropping her head seemingly just to peek through her lashes, a familiar, meek pinch settling across her mouth. “Am I?”

“Oh yes, pretty girl,” Hux says, playing her own part and drawing her fingers further around her throat. She applies a light pressure with her other hand across broad shoulder, prompting Ren to drop back to her knees. “Especially down there.”

Hux reaches for her own shoulder and undoes her cape, walking over to a convenient chair while folding it into quarters. She resists an urge to look at Ren when she reaches backward, only to startle, then roll her eyes, when the zipper meets her hand just as her fingers touch her own spine. She slips her arms free, then steps out of the dress, careful not to let it brush the ground lest the white get stained by unseen dust on the floor.

She hadn’t worn a bra, only a pair of inoffensive silicones, and peels off one with flick of her wrist, then the other, and sets them on the dress in hopes she won’t forget them. Again. She takes a deep breath and straightens the waistband of her panties before turning around, ensuring the lace and silk is lying flat and perfect across her hips. She could take them off as well, but there is hardly any point in wearing them, if Ren doesn’t see her in them for at least a few seconds.

It’s odd, really, how much she still cares about the way Ren sees her. She had before, with the few people she trusted, felt like she was giving someone a privilege, but with Ren it’s more like her own honor. It’s perhaps a simple consequence of them being on an even keel, though a brief flutter in her chest betrays a deeper thought that she buries even further before it can form.

She approaches Ren’s back slow, dropping her hand across wide shoulders, tracing between uneven beauty marks while she rounds to the front. The restraints keep Ren’s back relatively straight, almost fixed, though it does little to damper her enthusiasm by the way she dives immediately to nuzzle at the front of Hux’s panties.

“Eager,” Hux says, lifting her hand some to spin a lock of hair around her finger, tucking it over Ren’s ear. “Do you want to make _me_ come now?”

“Yes,” Ren murmurs, peeking upward with dark eyes, mouth pinching and pursing, then wetted quickly with particularly unsubtle insinuation.

“Take them off, then,” Hux says, then feels immediately the odd sensation of the cloth being pulled from her ass without hands, slowly dragging down her thighs. She glances down when the lace reaches her knees with a pull, then steps out of them with a hum, backing toward the bed. “How kind.”

Ren answers with an unintelligible mumble, dipping her head and rubbing her cheek flat against Hux’s thigh, now nosing tactlessly at Hux’s clipped pubic hair. It’s odd without her hands, usually groping by now with calloused fingers, but Hux had to punish somehow for the bruises she'll have on her own skin tomorrow.

Hux drops to the mattress, shifting back with some minor indulgence of the cool, soft fabric against her bare skin. She reaches out and draws her knuckles down Ren’s jaw, eyes catching on Ren’s with a wordless order to come closer. She moves her hand to bury in Ren’s hair, lifting her legs to get her knees around muscled shoulders and forcing that nose up into the crux of her thighs.

She closes her eyes against the first determined lick, biting at her lip while her body seems to burst with heat. It already feels like she’s melting, every swipe of tongue making her feel more and more wet; a pair of minutes all it takes to make her desperate. She’s admittedly been on edge a while, the ebb and flow from teasing Ren having the expected consequences. She allows herself a moan when Ren starts shaking her head more vigorously, making her feel spread open with a flat tongue, teasing with short swirls over her clit, then soothing again flat before moving downward with obscene, sucking wet noises.

“You were built for this,” Hux murmurs, peering down and using her thumb to tap clumsily at Ren’s awful nose, bumping steadily into her clit while her tongue licks deep into Hux’s cunt. She curls her thighs together, angling her hips up against the ache that only Ren’s mouth can ease. “Your face fits so perfectly between my legs.”

She wishes she’d left Ren with at least one hand, instead clenching desperately around nothing when Ren’s tongue leaves her to swipe heavy and slick, and so _hot_ , against her clit. She exhales in another moan, dragging dull nails over Ren’s shoulder and watching her abused skin turn a pale pink; she puts her other hand on the back of Ren’s head, discouraging her from moving again. “Keep – keep going there.”

Ren hums back and mercifully obeys, her eyes dark and half-lidded as she looks up steadily at Hux, proceeding gentler, but somehow more intense for it. She even refuses to go faster when Hux grinds up against her mouth, continuing to lick steady in torturous uneven shapes.

Hux leans back on the mattress as the torment draws out into _minutes_ , writhing at small pulses deep in her cunt and focusing only on the tightness building and building – the whole galaxy reduced to a sinful mouth. She winds her hand in Ren’s hair, hearing little noises erupt from her own mouth and echo against the walls, unable to silence them even with a bite against her lower lip. She cries out sharp, all dignity gone, when everything finally snaps, spine arching and thighs wrapped tight around Ren’s head, blood rushing loud and forceful in her ears as her entire body cedes to her throbbing cunt.

She opens her eyes with a sigh when her skin begins to cool, then makes the mistake of looking down her own body to catch Ren badly biting back a smile. She narrows her eyes, then receives a slow, but very real wink in response, and that’s really too much.

“You’re too smug,” Hux rasps, lifting her foot to kick weakly at Ren’s shoulder, frowning back when Ren just leans her head sideways on her ankle, now openly smirking. “Stop that – or don’t you want your turn?”

Ren visibly hesitates, eyes still dark and too intense, before dipping her head, gaze dropping to the ground. The expression is hardly demure as it should be, but Hux will grudgingly allow it – if commendations for eating pussy existed, she’d have had one months ago. Honorarily, anyway; she’s rather sure Ren can’t get medals.

“ _Thank_ you,” Hux says, then pats the mattress just as she drops her legs off Ren’s shoulders. “Now get up here.”

Ren rolls up onto her feet with envious ease, standing and keeping her head down so her hair falls over her face. “Where, General?”

“And now you’re just being cheeky,” Hux says, reaching out to tug on Ren’s harness, drawing her forward a half-step while remembering the remark about the collar. She leisurely slips her other hand up between Ren’s supple thighs, finding her soaking despite having little direct stimulus since she was wiped down, and softly works over a swollen clit with the heel of her palm.

Ren staggers forward with a mumbled yelp, knees hitting the edge of the mattress on either side of one of Hux’s legs. She wavers there a few seconds, rocking up against Hux’s hand, then follows another yank on her harness with a disarming little groan, falling to her side on the bed while turning to lay on her back in a smooth twist of her entire body, absurdly unbothered by her bound arms.

“That was the most wasteful use of the Force I’ve ever seen,” Hux says, though that is an exaggeration at best – the Force tends to become little more than an irksome toy during the more bureaucratic aspects of their shared duties.

Ren just responds with a hum, diverting the criticism with a flicker of lashes and a pointed turn of her legs into Hux’s thigh; she’s kept them folded, maintaining some illusion of coy. Her skin is hot to the touch, entire body flushed, but the ruddiness across her collarbone in particular invites Hux to roll over and press a kiss just above the straining harness.

“You’ve been awfully wanton tonight,” Hux says, trailing her lips down Ren’s sternum to the side of one breast, spreading Ren’s legs at the same time with one hand. “And this is just obscene,” she adds, sweeping her fingers up a muscular inner thigh, trailing across soft skin and parting Ren’s folds with a pair of fingers, sliding easily into her soaked cunt for a brief, teasing moment. “I cleaned you up and already you’re a mess again.”

“For you,” Ren gasps, her legs spreading wider; back arching over her bound arms.

Hux continues to rubs slick fingers in soft circles around Ren’s clit, thinking of the previous hours: Ren biting her lips in her chair, defenseless while allowing Hux to reduce her to writhing in front of everyone; acting unaffected and aloof on their walk back, then nearly collapsing in the hall. It should have been impossible to have that sort of privilege, such a grasp of real power over Ren, yet it certainly happened – she’d been given absolute trust for no reason more than pleasure.

Hux presses another kiss to Ren’s heaving chest, then moves up, mouthing along Ren’s neck at the same moment she slips her fingers inside once more, feeling the jerk of hips and listening to the shaky moan just near her ear. She drags her teeth along Ren’s jaw, inhaling the scent of sweat and that subtle perfume of ozone, using her free hand to tease a stiff nipple under her thumb while imagining she can feel the rush of blood under Ren’s overheated skin.

“Please,” Ren moans, squeezing around Hux’s fingers, her hips rolling upward for a few seconds of shameless grinding. She’s breathing harder than she has all night, mouth opening and closing with uneven whimpers. “I need – I need…”

“ _Need_?” Hux repeats, turning her fingers in Ren’s cunt and deeper into that lovely heat, pressing upward and feeling the spasm of excited flesh under her fingertips. She shifts on her front and slides down further on the bed, keeping her hand in motion but reluctantly pulling away from Ren’s breast, using the freed hand to hold flexing thighs open while focusing on spelling out lust against Ren’s clit with her tongue.

A quick glance up reveals darks eyes to be welling up, Ren’s waterproof kohl shiny with tears and threatening to spill over. It’s more familiar than those other subdued breaks, here begging between pants of breath with desperation like she might fall apart without release.

Hux keeps moving steady as reprisal for earlier, kneading up with shifting pressure and three fingers, humming while flattening her tongue across a swollen with heavy licks. She feels Ren’s cunt slowly start to pulse, not quite with orgasm, but a feeble precursor – the muscles having been going at it all night and certainly getting weak. She actually wasn’t sure Ren would be able to go for another tonight, but here she is rocking upward and moaning loud, muscled thighs threatening to close in and crush Hux’s head.

Ren gasps and shakes after barely a minute more, a low keen bursting from her throat and curling into herself as her cunt contracts hard and quick around Hux’s trapped fingers. She trembles some in the aftermath, but not worryingly, muscles quickly going lax with evident relief and sinking boneless against the bedspread, mouth half-open and eyes peeking open to fix as usual on Hux, dewy and desperate as if looking for guidance of her own experience.

“Good girl,” Hux offers, keeping her voice soft with praise as she leans up, gently pulling her fingers away from Ren’s sensitive mound. She reaches around for the leather rather than making Ren move, unclasping it with a blind yank of the buckles. “Very good, not breaking your harness.”

“New,” Ren mutters, leaning hard forward, her brow rolling against Hux’s chest as she shakes her head. “Couldn’t.”

“You could,” Hux says, bending to press a kiss to Ren’s hair, fairly sure she won’t remember the moment of weakness; she hasn’t mentioned any of the others. “You’re rather strong. Does anything hurt?”

Ren leans back and stretches her shoulders against the bed, then around in their sockets. “No.”

“Just a moment,” Hux says, hesitating a beat before reaching out to tap at Ren’s temple in signal; the second allowance shouldn’t be to much. Not tonight.

‘ _Feel… small_. _Now_.’

 _‘You certainly got a run tonight,’_ Hux responds, folding up a new towel and wetting it, twisting the excess out with a turn of her hands. She wonders sometimes what the troopers must think, if they ever know it’s General Hux in here using an inordinate amount of towels, but often it’s now she wonders about it, recently relaxed from orgasm, so can never quite bring herself to care. _‘Bringing a bloody sextoy out in public.’_

Ren offers a reverberating inner hum, head turning with a shift of heavy curls when Hux approaches the bed. _‘Different than I expected. Not so… not like your touch.’_

 _‘Certainly not,’_ Hux agrees, kneeing onto the mattress with a ghosting of her fingers over Ren’s thigh, then tapping with a pair of knuckles at her hip. ‘ _Though I’m sure you could acquire something.’_

‘ _Not that_.’ Ren turns over as Hux nudges her, exhaling some manner of relief when the towel is carefully drawn down her sweaty, still-heaving chest to her groin, and clean, drying skin left behind. ‘ _I meant… with your hands on me, in me – that’s almost impossible to compare. I cannot even think to think. The toy only… only stimulates._ ’

‘ _Ah_ ,’ Hux responds shortly, spreading Ren’s thighs and reluctant to wipe away all the considerable evidence of their night. She forces her own hand for the second time that night, folding the cloth and wiping in neat shifts until the skin is clean and drying, all the way up to her cunt; Hux generally forces her to join her in the refresher, but Ren seems genuinely exhausted – barely reacting to Hux’s ministrations.

“I wish the game wasn't just for Syro,” Ren whispers, aloud now, and the words so faint and rasping that they might not have happened at all.

Hux opens her mouth with a certain self-deceiving irony, almost going to _ask_ , before the significance hits her with the impact of a destroyer. She exhales slowly, folding the damp towel into a neat square and ignoring the hurt blistering up the back of her throat. She allows herself another act of weakness, pressing a kiss to Ren’s hip, then stands to return then cloth to its place.

She steps in the sonic for a brief time, cleaning herself and trying not to think, but the ache has only grown by the time she returns to the bed. It sits deep behind her sternum, beating slow and painful just next to her heart. She slowly curls slowly around Ren’s turned away back and fits hands across the warm hollow of a breast, finally understanding Ren's reluctance to shed her act, even while that knowledge hurts her even further.

“You’re only ever Ren to me,” she whispers, pressing her forehead to the perfect curve of a nape. “Just Ren.”

The words seem to echo despite their murmured volume, and a noticeable awkwardness slips into the nonexistent space between them, heavy and uncomfortable, but Hux refuses to let go or roll away. She’s not sure that she even made sense, but she already feels better for saying it, like something that was bound tight in her chest has finally been freed.

Ren breaks first, exhaling a shaky breath and abruptly shifting away to lean up on her good hand. She stays there an awful, endless moment, then turns over in a smooth motion to embrace Hux from the front in an ungainly hug. “I don’t know how you do this,” she says, curling into Hux’s chest, nose pressing to her collarbone and muscled arms wrapping tight around her waist. Her voice is hoarse, as if her throat has been seized tight for minutes. “You reach inside me and grasp at something not even I can reach. No matter where I am or who I’ve decided to be, you find it.”

“I…” Hux swallows, trying to banish the skittering fear of unknown at the back of her mind; a looming threat that’s always there waiting for her to do wrong. She should be content without risking Snoke’s ire or her position, but Ren is the one who always stands beside her, and she’s just realized that potential is worth far more. “I would have you outside the game, as well.”

Ren is quiet for another worrying moment, then takes a deep breath, tucking her head and arms squeezing tighter, one leg slipping between Hux’s to lock them together. “You do. You already do.”

Hux sinks her hand into Ren’s thick hair, pulling her closer and burying her own nose into the mess of curls with a deep inhale. She allows a minute of silence, feeling tension bleeding slow from them both, then exhales, “But don’t you dare try this vibrator nonsense while we’re on duty.”

Ren gives a curious noise, cheek shifting flat across Hux’s breast. “I hadn’t even – ”

“No, it would be a terrible idea,” Hux interrupts, tapping lightly at Ren’s temple with her thumb. She’s unsure where the notion came from so quickly, or why it’s all she can think about now, but perhaps she's simply feeling awkward about sentiment, diverting her thoughts to those of Ren beside her and sequestered in her proper robes, frightening the masses, yet all the while, overheated and desperate behind her helmet. She might even fall apart in Hux’s office, dropping to her knees and begging for it to be removed, but she won’t do it herself – only Hux would have the pleasure.

Ren offers a small, perceptive groan.

“Wouldn’t it?” Hux whispers, pressing her lips to a standout ear. “ _Ren_.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> [An illustration of their outfits (plus a Millicent, sadly not in this).](https://twitter.com/ezlebe/status/1059867697746391040)
> 
>  
> 
> The ending was originally going to be a sort of angsty cliffhanger, so if it feels off, the last minute change is _probably_ why.


End file.
